Captive Audience
by ShannonSto
Summary: GS. Grissom gets inspiration from an unlikely source while trapped in a warehouse.


**A/N**: This is just a short something that was on my mind. 

**Disclaimer**: I still own nothing.

Captive Audience 

Gil Grissom stood up and stretched his back. He had been kneeling while collecting shell fragments, and it was murder on the knees and the back.  Now he remembered why he usually delegated such tasks to Nick.  The paramedics had just left with the victim, a teenaged boy with a gunshot wound to the chest.  Scanning the room, Grissom caught sight of a medical bag near the blood spatter on the floor.

_Idiot_, he thought bitterly.  _Can't even remember his own equipment. How good of a paramedic could he be?_  Intellectually, he recognized that his disdain for the young man was based not on his medical skills or lack thereof, but rather on the fact that he had dated, and used, Sara.  He really wished he had taken the samples to the truck himself instead of sending Nick.

"Forgot my gear," Hank muttered apologetically as he passed Grissom.  Grissom did not even acknowledge the man's presence.   He felt a terrific migraine coming on.  

It took a few moments for Grissom to realize that the increasingly loud noise was not in his head.  They heard a tremendous crash as an out of control tanker truck overturned and struck the building, blocking their only exit. Within seconds, Grissom's cell phone rang.

"Grissom."

"Grissom! Are you okay?" A definite panic could be heard in Nick's voice. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," Grissom glanced at Hank. "We're fine."

"Thank God. Listen, the other paramedic's calling fire and rescue from his truck."

"He needs to get the vic to the hospital."

"He's going, he's going.  I'll call you back as soon as we know how long it'll take to get you out."

Closing his phone, Grissom sighed deeply and slid down the wall to a sitting position on the floor_.  I'm trapped with the moron. Terrific_.

Hank sat a few feet from Grissom, needing to start a conversation to pass the time, but anxious about Grissom's cool attitude toward him.  Common ground. That was it, they needed to find common ground.

"How's everything at the lab?"

"Fine," Grissom answered dismissively.

"Everything back up and running after the explosion?"

"Yep." _It's been nine months, you imbecile! Of course everything's up and running._

"How, uh," Hank swallowed. "How's Sara?"

"Fine," was Grissom's curt response.

"You know, I really expected you to be more articulate than this…" Hank was beginning to become irritated. "Do you say anything over one syllable?"

"As Plato once said, 'Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools, because they have to say something.'"  Grissom placed his hands over his face, as if trying to rub the headache away.

"What do you have against me?"

"Can you drop it, please?"

Hank shook his head and chuckled, "I'll never get what she sees in you."

"It was always you, you know," the paramedic continued. "I never had a chance with her."

"You never had a chance with her because you were involved with someone else," Grissom snapped. "You used her. You hurt her."

"She was involved with someone else, too," Hank sputtered defensively. "She used me just as much as I used her."

"She wasn't involved with anyone else."

"Maybe not physically.  But, um," he rolled his eyes. "Her heart definitely was somewhere else. You were just too damn blind to see it.  She was using me to try to get over you, because you wouldn't give her the time of day."

"You don't know a damn thing about Sara."

"Obviously, I know more about her than you do. I know she's in love with you.  She didn't even deny it.  If she thought she had the slightest chance with you, she would have dumped me in a heartbeat."

Grissom's phone rang again. "Nick?"

"Yeah, it's me. We're gonna have you guys out in about thirty minutes.  Still okay?"

"Yes. Thanks, Nick."

Grissom closed his eyes and tried to will away his migraine—and his companion. No such luck on either count.  Peddigrew had begun pacing nervously around the small warehouse. Grissom's consciousness was working hard to try to wrap itself around Hank's revelations.  He knew that there must be truth there; the younger man had nothing to gain by lying.  

His world had shattered when he learned that Sara was dating this man.  He'd been devastated by the knowledge that she had chosen the paramedic over him.  He had believed up to that point that she had a genuine romantic interest in him, and had never felt more foolish than when he knew that her interest was transient, merely a substitute until something better came along.  

And now, here was his one-time romantic rival telling him that he'd had it all backwards.  Could it be true?  Could Hank have been the substitute?  How different would things have been if he had acted on his feelings then?  Regret covered him like a blanket; a heavy, suffocating blanket.  How had he and Sara gotten their wires so crossed?

Grissom noted thankfully that Hank did not again attempt to engage him in conversation.  They passed their time in silence, save for the sounds of the rescue squad working to secure their freedom.

Later that evening, Grissom sat on a stool at his breakfast bar pondering the situation. He knew what he should do; he didn't know if he could summon up the courage to do it. _It's simple, Gil. Why do you work so hard to complicate it?  Just pick up the phone and dial_.  Before he could stop them, his hands had done just that.

"Hello?" a familiar voice answered after two rings.

"Sara, I…" Grissom struggled to keep from losing his nerve. "Uh, can I see you tonight?  We need to talk."

The End


End file.
